Brave Fire
by El.Oh.Vee.Ee
Summary: The Yautja species is in crisis, what with it's females suddenly becoming infertile, and slowly dying off. The humans have become less of a nuisance and more a necessity for the Yautja. Human women are being taken from their home planet in order to be used as breeders. Kujhade is next in line for a mate. He'll find her, and he'll have her.
1. Kidnappings in Chicago

The sun was just setting over the west Chicago bridge, casting eerie shadows on the walls of the brick buildings. Women of all ages clutched their belongings to their chests nervously, hustling along the darkening streets. The fright behind their eyes was nearly tangible, almost a living thing. Kurin shuddered with fear of her own, causing gooseflesh to spread across the flesh of her exposed arms.

What once used to be a semi-decent city was now a hotspot for kidnappings. Fifteen women, daily, were disappearing without a trace. By now, the truth had started to settle in with most of the women. They were being hunted. By what, nobody had figured out.

Kurin hoisted her purse strap higher onto her shoulder before crossing the street. Trash, caught by the wind, danced around her ankles as she walked. She added a skip to her step, the exhilaration of almost being home suddenly lightening her mood. A sudden memory tickled her conscious. A fond memory from her childhood.

_Kurin, in a room painted with light blues and green, twirled a circle around a crib. Pushing herself up onto tiptoes, she peered over the edge of the bar. That moment marked the first time she'd ever been truly happy. Nestled in the bottom of the crib was a child, only days old. His clear blue eyes stared back into green ones. That child was her newborn brother, and he belonged to her. Kurin's fiery hair spilled over the edge, into the crib, mixing with the child's blonde tuft. With shaking hands, he reached for the waterfall of fire. That was the first time Jayson ever pulled his sister's hair. Her cries of pain were dwarfed by his laughter, and in that moment, Kurin was as happy as she'd ever been._

It took a moment for Kurin to notice the silence settling over the streets. With a glance up, she realized just how alone she was. All the women who had previously been hurrying home were now safely behind locked doors, leaving Kurin stranded in the bare streets alone. The darkness washed over the city, draining the color from her surroundings. Her knuckles tightened on the strap of her purse and she started to jog, her heart running faster than she was.

_Calm down. You're fine. What are the chances you'd be abducted, anyway? Slim._

She attempted talking herself out of a panic attack, which only made her predicament worse.

_Only two blocks to go. You're alright. You've got this. You took track. Just breath._

She could feel eyes on her, from every window she passed. Curious bystanders, watching from the safety of their homes as a lone teenage girl raced home after curfew. Everyone watched, waiting for the mysterious abductor to appear and snatch her up. At least then, they would know who, or what, was taking the women.

_One more block. You're almost home! Don't trip. Don't trip. Don't trip._

The darkness deepened, swallowing up Kurin's ankles. She pumped her legs faster, her sneakers making a disturbing amount of noise in the otherwise silent city. As she passed an alley, a sudden clicking drifted to her ears. Loud enough to trump even her heavy breathing. She skidded to a stop, only feet from the mouth of the black alley. Why? She had no idea. She was silent a moment, and a moment was all it took. The clicking bounced off the walls again, followed by what sounded like a growl.

_Whatever that was, it was huge…_

Her body suddenly went rigid, and as she turned to bolt, a hot breath crawled across the back of her neck. Her fiery hair danced in the current of it, falling in strands over her shoulder.

With her heart in her throat, Kurin took off. Her speed surprised even her, but what surprised her the most was her uncontrollable curiosity. She just had to look back as she ran. What she saw, or rather, what she didn't see, was a huge creature standing in the street. The street lights flickered on right as she glanced back, and a huge, shimmering form stood under the streetlight near the mouth of the alley. The shimmering lasted only a moment before smoothing over and disappearing completely, but she _knew_ what she saw.

Whatever that was, it was_ huge_, it was _loud_, and it was _still_ watching her.

She turned around and continued her mad sprint for home. She could see her door now, the only red one on the block. It creaked open as she neared, and she feared her house had been broken into, until Jayson stepped out, searching the street.

His eyes landed on Kurin, and they both let out a sigh of relief. Kurin ran up the steps to her door and hooked an arm under Jayson's arms before running into the house, slamming the door, and sliding the deadbolt into place. His blonde hair was tousled and windswept from her sudden retrieval, and he patted it down with an annoyed expression on his face. Kurin, still out of breath, laughed at his efforts before running her fingers through his hair affectionately.

"You're late." he whispered. He lost all annoyance in his tone and expression. He was suddenly the sad little boy that Kurin was familiar with. She stopped her ministrations on his hair and sighed.

"I'm alright, Jayson. I'm home now, that's what counts." she replied. He looked up into her eyes, and she could see that happiness shone there, even if it wasn't apparent on his small face. That happiness should have been the brightest of his features, just like any other ten year old, but it wasn't. That small fact saddened Kurin.

"I was worried about you. I was going to come looking for you." He dug around in his jacket pocket before holding out both of his hands. In one, there was a small flashlight. In the other, an even smaller pocket knife. Kurin recognized the knife as her Father's, and went to reach for it. Jayson pulled his hand away, hiding the knife from her.

"I didn't steal it. I swear. I was going to put it back when I was done." he grumbled. He wouldn't meet her eyes, and she chuckled sadly.

"It's okay, Jayson. Dad would have wanted you to have it…" she whispered. He shoved the knife into the pocket of his pants and she placed a soft kiss on his forehead.

Kurin offered her hand as she stood, waiting for Jayson to place his hand in hers. When he did, she gave it a reassuring squeeze and led him to their bedroom. As they readied for bed, Kurin paused to grab a picture sitting on the nightstand. The picture was that of a happy family. A Father on the left, holding a son with the same striking features that he had. Bleach blonde hair, clear blue eyes, and strong bone structure. A mother on the right, her hand on the shoulder of her daughter. Their hair, which was similar in so many ways, drifted on a current of wind. Their Mother and Father were the ideal couple, with the ideal children, and a happy life.

She placed the picture back on the stand as Jayson came into the room. He caught the movement, and pain shot through his eyes. It was the kind of pain that left deep scarring, further down than anyone could reach. Too severe to be healed by anyone. Kurin knew this pain because it festered within herself, and it was a pain that a child so young should never feel. She crawled into bed, and Jayson soon after. She pulled Jayson to her chest and tucked him into her body, holding him there like Mother used to do.

When his labored breathing finally evened out, Kurin gave herself to sleep. Unlike most nights, where she dreamed of the screech of tires, the squeal of brakes, and the crushing of metal, she dreamed of clicks. Of growls. And of shimmering figures, just beyond her line of sight.


	2. Knock Knock

Kurin was startled out of sleep by a screeching, high pitched wail. With her heart in her throat, she shot up in bed. A disgruntled Jayson rolled over onto his side and curled farther into the recesses of the blankets. The pitchy wail continued in short bursts, annoyingly constant.

Kurin's hand fell heavily upon the demanding alarm clock, and she swung her legs over the side of the bed. The chill of the room seemed to leach the warmth from her very core, and she shivered when her legs felt the first bites of cold. With sluggish movements, Kurin managed to pull herself out of bed, and even turn around to lay a kiss on Jayson's forehead. He sighed softly to himself before rolling over again and burrowing into the warm spot that was recently vacated.

Kurin took enough time to grab a pair of socks from her drawer before making her way down stairs. At the bottom step, she sat down and slid her chilled feet into the soft cotton. A sudden, jarring noise startled Kurin. Someone was at the door, banging so hard Kurin feared they might break it down. She shot to her feet and ran to the door, worried that something was wrong. Whoever was at the door wasn't used to being patient, as the violent knocking continued.

The last few steps, Kurin's heart skipped a beat. Adrenaline started slamming it's way through her veins, causing her hands to quake as she reached cautiously for the handle. A quick unlatch of the lock and a turn of the handle later, Kurin stood face to face with none other than the Chicago Police.

Or rather, Chicago's best effort at a Policeman. The squat, round man stared at Kurin with an un-amused expression on his face. His poorly groomed beard held crumbs still left over from last nights Garlic bread, and the perpetual scowl on his face caused the skin around his eyes to wrinkle and droop.

"Kurin Shere?" he grunted, the impatience obvious in the way he spat her name.

"Yes, Sir. What can I help you with?" She asked, forcing the pleasantness into her voice. He was a grouch, and she wanted nothing more than to flick him right between his bulging little eyes.

"A few neighbors in the area reported screaming coming from your residence early this morning. We were called in to investigate." At the word we, the officer shoved a thumb over his shoulder directed at a younger officer leaning awkwardly against the hood of the squad car. This young man was maybe in his early twenties, roughly six foot with a lanky build and gangly arms. His brown hair was slicked back with copious amounts of gel and his shoes were spit shined. He was definitely new to the force, because any self respecting Chicago cop wouldn't be caught dead with shiny shoes and hair to match.

"Well the screaming wasn't coming from this house. At least, it wasn't coming from my Brother or I. What time, about, did you say this happened?" she wondered aloud. The officer shot her a disapproving look before shouldering past her into her house. Kurin started to protest at his sudden boldness, and lack of warrant, but decided to fight it down and bite her tongue. What harm could this pudgy little man do?

"A brother, you say? How old is he?" he asked, fingering the edge of a vase.

"He's 10. His name is Jayson." Kurin folded her arms to stop herself from smacking the mans hands away from everything his greedy fingers reached for.

"And how old did you say you were?" he asked.

"I didn't." was all she replied with. That smartass remark earned her a glare with a grunt to follow.

"Okay. Let me rephrase that. How old are you, Ms. Shere?"

"Eighteen. Just turned, actually. And yes, I have legal custody of my brother. I have been supporting my brother and myself for a little over three years now, and yes, I know what I'm doing when it comes to the safety and well being of my family. Now, you didn't come here to drill me about my age or legal status, you came for the reported screaming. Search my house if you like, touch my things if you like, but do it quick and get out, or else I'll kick up a fuss about you entering my home without my consent, or a warrant to boot." Kurin folded her arms to solidify her point, and the officer flinched. If she really wanted, she could have him in quite the bind. Or so she thought.

WIth a nod of his head, the younger officer entered the house, closing and locking the door behind him. She shot him a questioning look before realizing her situation.

She was locked in a house two men who probably weren't cops. It was five in the morning, and Jayson was upstairs asleep.

"Now we're gonna do this nice and easy. You come with us, we'll get paid a pretty penny for you at auction, and no blood will be spilled." the younger man said.

_What auction?_ she wondered.

His tongue ran over his teeth with a slapping of saliva, and Kurin's skin started to crawl. She took a step back just as they advanced forward. Her eyes darted around the room before she bolted for the kitchen. She slammed the door behind her, which only earned her a few seconds, but within those seconds, she'd had the time to arm herself with two steak knives. When she turned around to face her pursuers, she was struck with a sudden realization.

She was either going to have to stab, or kill, one or both of these men.

**PLEASE RATE. THIS IS A NEW STORY AND I'D LOVE THE FEEDBACK, SINCE I'VE NEVER DONE AN ALIEN/PREDATORS FIC.**


	3. Silence

The kitchen door slammed against the wall as two grown men burst through, looks of annoyance painting their features. Kurin's heart lodged itself firmly in her throat, effectively cutting off her windpipe. Her eyes grew wider with every step the men took towards her, fright ever apparent on her face. The only way out was either through the door behind_ them_, or the locked window behind _her_. Neither seemed like a very solid plan, so she settled for what felt right.

_Fight or die._

The squat man watched the small young girl with hungry eyes. Her fear, her passion, her body. They were all aspects of a woman that sold well at auction. Her fiery hair framed a heart shaped face before falling in layers to her hips. Her green eyes were alight with horror, fear, and caution. Her fright pinkened her cheeks on an otherwise pale, creamy face. Slender neck fed into feminine shoulders, which dipped down into cleavage and bust. Her figure was perfect, with promising bust, small waist, and flared hips. She was small, but she had the full package.

If the man had been paying attention to more than just her body, he would have seen her sudden change in demeanor. Something inside her clicked, and she knew what she had to do. Without a thought she charged the two, seemingly unarmed, men. The fat man had just enough time to take a single, startled step back before a steak knife was driven into his meaty shoulder.

With a strangled cry of pain and shock, he fell to his knees. He'd been kicked, slapped, punched and bitten, but never before had he been _stabbed_. With that man forgotten, Kurin advanced on the younger of the two. Had she also been paying attention, she would have spotted the taser grasped firmly in his hand, or heard the zap of electricity as he fingered the trigger.

She made to stab him in the throat, but his arm came up as hers came down. The taser connected at the wrist, and Kurin immediately crumpled to the ground in a heap, a strangled cry barely escaping her lips. Her bones felt as if they had all, at once, began to curl backwards on themselves. For good measure, he knelt at her side and placed the metal tongs on the soft flesh of her neck. She released one, last, horrified scream before 50 thousand volts rocketed through her system.

From her bleary gaze, she could just see the small form of her brother in the doorway of the kitchen. His eyes, still unfocused and confused from sleep, were suddenly panic stricken. Something shimmered just behind his left shoulder, like a ripple in reality. Something that vaguely resembled a hand came to rest there on his shoulder. Jayson glanced up, seemingly at nothing, before looking back to Kurin with worried eyes.

**_Run_** she mouthed.

She tried focusing on his retreating back, but her eyes rolled back in her head and she was swallowed by the cold.

Jayson ran immediately for the bedroom. Not to hide in the blankets or the comfort of his closet, but to grab his father's knife. Just as his fingers wrapped around the cool metal, a sudden crash resonated from the downstairs kitchen. Out of instinct, Jayson curled in on himself and sank to the floor, shielding his head with his arms.

_Don't be stupid!_ he told himself, trying to stop the tremors.

The sound of crunching metal echoed through the house, collecting all around Jayson's head. He couldn't stop it now. There was no stopping it. The tremors started at his fingertips, and quickly progressed to his arms, his chest, his legs. Pure panic had taken over. The onslaught of memories assailing him was too much to handle.

_Squealing tires._

_Crunching metal._

_Silence._

_Silence._

_Silence._

_...Screaming…_

Bloodied faces and mangled bodies flashed through his mind like a morbid slideshow, making him relive every moment of his parent's death. The blood rushing down his Mother's ashen face, her legs bent and twisted in unnatural and sick angles. His father's chest punctured through by the broken steering wheel. Dead on impact was what the police had by car wreck. The statement itself was something to grimace at. But the memory itself, of the tone of voice used to describe his parent's situation, was disgusting. Whoever had voiced those words had felt nothing of sorrow. Their mangled family was just another problem that had to be dealt with.

Out of all the horrid memories he had ever had, Jayson cherished one the most. It was of his parents hands, clasped together tightly even in death, hanging limply between them. What they had was love. Love for eachother and love for their family.

It was the same love Jayson had for Kurin. He swatted angrily at the tears streaming down his face, and he forced himself to uncurl from the floor. By now, the entire house had gone silent, the only sound was that of Jayson's sniffling.

_What's going on?_ kept repeating in his head, over and over again.

On wobbling legs, Jayson made his way downstairs. With a knife in one hand and his stomach in his shoes, he pushed open the kitchen door.

Kurin was just coming to when she heard the creak of the kitchen door. Her neck and her wrist throbbed, and confusion muddied her brain. She was laying in a puddle of something warm, and her hands slipped when she tried to push herself up. She fell back into the puddle with an oomph!, and decided to lay there a minute longer. She could just see Jayson's un-socked feet as he padded cautiously into the cold kitchen. One thought, above all else, thundered through her pounding head.

_Jayson Allen Shere, where are your socks?!_

__

_**Thank you for all the reviews! Please continue to give them to me. I love them. :3 Next chapter coming up soon.**_


	4. Shock and Awe

Jayson watched Kurin struggle to pull herself up, her hands repeatedly slipping on the pool of blood on the floor. It wasn't her blood, he knew, because there was too much of it, and aside from some marks on her neck she looked fine. Still, he blanched when he realized that the men who were there previously, were there no longer. And if the blood wasn't hers, then whose?

He thought back to the feeling of a reassuring hand being placed on his shoulder, and the soft, reassuring presence of his Father.

_Was that my Father?_

Kurin grumbled something incoherent, Jayson only catching the word "socks". He stepped around the blood as much as he could, only slipping in it once or twice. It surged up between his toes and painted the crevices there red. He couldn't help the gag that choked his throat, so he turned his head away from the warm pools, trying to close everything out. He couldn't do it. He just couldn't.

Kurin struggled to her knees, her head finally clearing. The first thing she realized was her soaking clothes. The second, was how warm the liquid seeping through was. And the third was the color.

_Red_.

Kurin sucked in a strangled breath, the smell of copper hitting her like a freight train.

_This blood isn't mine… Where are those men?_

She scrambled to her feet, much more in control of herself now that she was fully awake. She almost knocked Jayson over in her rush, but caught him awkwardly in her drenched, bloodied arms before hoisting him onto her hip and running from the kitchen. His blonde hair bounced chaotically around his head, the tips stained red from brushing Kurin's clothes.

Kurin sat him down on the couch, noticing how utterly still he was. A faraway look held his features in a mask of shock. She knew the feeling. She was teetering. She wasn't far behind him.

She placed a palm over his cheek, not bothering to wipe her soiled hands first. Her eyes searched his, finding nothing. They were devoid of all feeling. Shards of ice shot up her spine and her chest clenched. She bit her lip nervously before placing a chaste kiss on his forehead.

"Don't move." She whispered. As she turned to run up stairs, a ripple on the wall immediately to her right caught her eye. It looked strange, almost as if the wallpaper was warping from old age or moisture. As soon as she saw it, it was gone. She took a steadying breath, worried she may be going into shock.

_Is hallucinating part of shock?_

The pounding of her feet up the stairs broke the strangling silence in the house. Goose flesh rose over her arms and shivers started to crawl ever so slowly up her spine.

_This is shock. This is definitely shock._

She grabbed the nearest duffle bag to her and started throwing her things into it. She had no idea where she was running to, but she was running.

_Three minutes_.

She gave herself three minutes to pack and leave. She wasn't keeping Jayson in this house any longer than that. Three minutes worth of frenzied snatching and grabbing and she was back down stairs. Jayson was right where she left him, same look of shock and awe plastered on his face. Jayson wasn't a baby anymore, but he was still small. She balanced sixty pounds of traumatized ten year old on her hip before throwing herself out the door.

It was still dark outside, nearly causing Kurin to trip down the steps. A hunched, dark figure stopped Kurin in her tracks. Just to her left, right off the path, was the body of the pudgy officer. He was placed neatly against the fire hydrant, propped up and hands folded over his lap. Blood trickled over his phony badge and onto the cement.

What caught her attention was his head.

Or rather, the lack thereof.

She took a step backwards, towards her home, seeking it's shelter. When she turned around to dart back inside, she noticed the token pinned to her door with a steak knife. A fresh, bloodied skull, spine and all, dripping morbid art onto her steps. The steak knife was lodged through the vertebrae at the base of the skull, keeping the jaw closed.

Something inside her twitched. A yearning to be let free. Some kind of sick satisfaction. She tamped it down, fearing she might scream out all her fear and confusion.

In the distance, a car turned a corner. Excitement roiled through Kurin in waves, nearly knocking her over. Taking a deep breath, she calmly stepped past the dead man on the sidewalk and into the street. She threw her hand up, hailing the early morning cab. A few seconds later, it rumbled to a stop next to her. She placed herself and Jayson calmly in the back seat, trying not to spook the driver. She hoped the cabbie couldn't see her blood covered clothes, but a quick glance in the rearview mirror crushed those hopes. Blood caked the entire right side of her face, plastering her hair to her head in knotted clumps. Streaks of red ran down her left cheek like war paint. The collar of her shirt stuck to her collarbone and shoulders, moving sickeningly across her pale skin.

Like a smart cabbie, he shot her a strange look before pulling away from the curb. No words were spoken, except to exchange directions.

_"As far out of the city in any direction._ " seemed like a good enough destination for the man, and he took over from there. Jayson's head slumped against her arm as he slept, and she couldn't help herself. She followed his lead. She situated herself as comfortably as possible, wrapping her arms around her brother, before falling asleep to the hum of the car engine.

The "cabbie" driver watched the light drain from the bloodied girls eyes. He couldn't tell the color of her hair, or her eyes, or the shape of her body, but she was pretty. She was also young, maybe a few years younger than himself at the steady age of 21.

A buzzing went off in his pocket and he reached for his phone. The message was a forwarded one, probably sent out to hundreds of agents.

"Agents" being a loose term. A better word for his line of work might be _"Kirk's Kidnapping Service,"_ or _"Abductors Inc."_.

**_"Time to wrap it up boys. Bring in the bounty."_** was all it read. Kirk flipped the switch for the door locks, and all the knobs disappeared into the doors with an audible 'click'. The girl and small child in the back didn't stir, and Kirk chuckled in amusement.

She was in for a big surprise come morning.

A big surprise, indeed.


	5. Blood and Water

The car came to screeching halt, throwing Kurin and Jayson into the back of the front seat. The driver side door slammed shut as Kirk got out. Kurin's hands groped for Jayson in her sleepy haze, catching and lacing into his shirt.

"Kurin"? he whispered, now completely awake.

He could see the driver of the cab outside talking to a tall, muscular man. The man had ebony skin and dark eyes, and his leather jacket defined his massive shoulders. He was a hulking beast, and he was glaring at Jayson through the window.

"Hmm?" she grumbled, fingering her temple. A massive headache shocked through her head, causing her to wince. She opened her eyes at the whimper in Jayson's voice.

"Who are these men?" he asked breathlessly.

Kurin turned her head to peer out the window. A huge man stood only feet from the car, conversing with the driver. He was at least 6'4, with a shoulder spanse that would intimidate a rhino. His legs were long and muscular, easily seen beneath his snug jeans. A spiked cuff decorated his wrist, while a leather jacket adorned his back. He was all around intimidating, and panic struck her.

"I have no idea," she whispered. She crawled over to the far side of the car to grab for door handle.

"but I don't plan on finding out." She pulled the handle three times before she realized it was fully locked, and when she reached for the lock itself, it was gone. The only thing left was the lock hole, which was impossible to retrieve the lock from. She'd seen enough movies and watched enough T.V to realize what was happening. She was in a forest she wasn't familiar with, all alone except for her brother and two grown, very large men. The door locks were completely gone, and she was a teenage girl.

This was obviously a kidnap. And instead of losing her head, Kurin used it. She maneuvered herself into such a position that she could kick the window. Her leg shot out and struck the window with the heel of her boot. The window rattle but didn't break. She scooted closer and tried again. This time, it cracked. She kicked once more and the window shattered, but the men had already realized what she was doing. The door behind her was thrown open and Jayson was dragged from the car, kicking and screaming and clawing at everything he touched.

Kirk, who had seized the boy, growled in frustration. The little brat had quite the kick to him. Sebastian, Kirk's boss, leaned into the car to grab for the small redheaded girl. A savage scream ripped through the dense woods as she launched herself at him, effectively startling him. Claws bared, she dug into the skin of his neck and face. His own scream of rage erupted through the confined space, deafening and horrifying at the same time. By the time he got her under control and pinned, his face and neck were bleeding from thin, razor like slices. She thrashed and screamed out her frustration with her face pressed into the damp, dingy forest floor. Every other girl Kirk had collected had sat in a corner and cried, but this one had passion. And she was pissed.

Sebastian pulled a zip tie from the pocket of his leather jacket and pulled Kurin's hands roughly behind her back. She cried out when he twisted her arm, and a dark chuckle released him. He pulled the zip tie tight against her small wrists, guaranteeing she wouldn't escape without difficulty. With a grunt of annoyance, he pulled her easily to her feet.

A few people shuffled into the woods from a door that Kurin hadn't noticed before, attached to a cement building. They were all men, about the same size as the man holding her. Obviously this operation of theirs wasn't a new thing, or else their guys wouldn't be so hulking and huge.

"Sebastian, the auction is starting. We just cleaned up the last batch of women and sent them to Loading Bay C." Sebastian nodded and yanked Kurin forward. Her crusted, filthy hair fell into her face and obscured her vision.

Sebastian shoved her toward the other men, none too gently.

"Get this one cleaned up." he muttered, brushing dirt off his jacket and pants.

"You want us to save her for tomorrow? We've got all the girls we need for todays auction." The man holding her said. His voice shook with his nerves. Kurin could understand. Sebastian was daunting.

"No. Get her cleaned and get her on stage. I want her gone before the morning." He turned on his heel and headed for the car. The last Kurin saw of him was his head through the window as he drove the car away.

Jayson had lost all his spunk after Kurin was zip tied, and now hung limply in Kirks arms. His breathing was labored and his eyes were alight with fear and hatred. Kurin looked at him apologetically. It was all she could do for him right now. For some reason, she couldn't help feeling like this was all her fault. But how could it be? She woke up this morning and everything just went to shit around her.

The men lead her to the door they had just exited, and pushed her through. Nearly too late, she realized that the driver who had Jayson was not following them. Instead, he was hauling the struggling boy off in the opposite direction.

"Stop!" she screamed, throwing her shoulder into the ribs of the nearest captor. He grunted and doubled over as she shot for the door. She was caught by the hair by the second man, who threw her to the ground with all her momentum. Without hands to catch her fall, she landed on her chest and scraped the side of her face. Still winded, the first man pulled her up, nursing his hurt ribs.

"What was that for?" he grumbled. No hate or anger laced his voice. Just exhaustion and pain. She almost felt bad for him.

"Please," she begged, looking up at him. Tears danced just behind her eyes, and she looked to be on the edge of hysteria.

"Please," she continued. "don't separate us. Bring him to me… Please." He looked away from her pitiful gaze, long enough to steel himself against her sorrow.

With his face an emotionless mask, he grunted out a stiff "No." He pushed her along through the halls, her head hanging limp in defeat.

She was brought into a large room full of inground baths. Two women were inside, busy scrubbing around the tubs. As Kurin and the men entered, they looked up and sighed. It wasn't hard to guess that they weren't particularly happy to see them.

"Don't worry. This is the last one for today. The auction has started so you'll want to get her done quick, before Sebastian comes back." With a little shove forward, Kurin entered the room completely. The men escaped back through the door and closed it behind them. She was almost tempted to stick her tongue out at them as they left, but for some reason, she didn't want to seem childish in front of these women.

The shorter of the two shuffled forward, wiping her hands on her jeans. She was young, in her early thirties, maybe. Her kind face was surrounded by wavy black hair that fell to her shoulders. She stuck her hand out as she approached, as if to shake hands.

"I'm Beatrice. And this is Joanne." She said, nodding behind her at the skinny, blonde haired woman.

It took Beatrice a moment to realize Kurin's tied wrists, and her hand fell. A sigh escaped her as she folded her arms uncomfortably.

"They always treat you guys like animals. Seriously, what harm could a little thing like you do?" she grumbled. Kurin curled her fingers, remembering the dried blood under her nails from clawing Sebastian's face earlier. She held back a morbid chuckle.

Beatrice produced scissors from one of her many pockets and snipped the zip tie around Kurin's wrists.

Kurin's fingers tingled with fresh blood and sensation. She wiggled her fingers experimentally in front of herself, playing with the idea of strangling the woman beside her. The thought was pleasant, until her rational side kicked in.

This woman was nice to her. Ver y well the only decent human being she'd seen today. It would be rude to try and kill her, even if she was trying to pretty her up for some kind of sick human auction. She couldn't really blame her. She was just doing her job. Or was this more of a hobby for her?

During Kurin's inner monologue, Beatrice led her to the edge of one of the huge tubs. She took scissors to Kurin's ruined shirt, effectively leaving her exposed. At the first sign of wind across chest, Kurin threw her arms over her nakedness and hopped back, gasping in surprise.

"Forgive me, doll. I didn't give you any warning. We need to get you undressed, in the bath, and out as quick as we can. If you'd just follow along, we could get it done with no hassle and no force needed." Beatrice put emphasis on the word force, making it clear to Kurin that she wasn't afraid to call in a little man power to restrain her.

Kurin didn't like that idea, so she begrudgingly shrugged off her tattered, ruined, shirt and stepped forward cautiously. She took the initiative with her pajama pants and slipped them off soundlessly. In nothing but a bra a panties, she took the first steps into the water.

If it hadn't been for the fact that was kidnapped, brought to a building in the middle of nowhere, and forced to get naked in front of strangers, Kurin would have said the bath was the most luxurious she'd ever had.

The women worked around Kurin's undergarments, not putting up much of a fuss about them. She wasn't aloud to scrub her own hair or body, and had to bite her tongue while the women did it for her. Everything about the day had turned out to be pure torture. From being tazed, to rolling around in blood, being kidnapped, being restrained, and now, being humiliated.

When the scrubbing and rinsing and fussing was finally over with, Kurin was pulled from the tub and wrapped in a towel. Clothes were handed to her and she was directed to a corner of the room, covered only by curtain. She ducked behind the curtain, out of sight, and picked through the clothing.

A new pair of undergarments were given to her. A simple white, lace bra with matching panties. Kurin shrugged off her current, skimpy attire and slipped into the clean undies. The last piece of cloth was a satin dress, long enough only to cover her upper thighs. The neck of the dress dipped into a dramatic "V", showing off more cleavage than she was comfortable with. In the right light, Kurin could almost guarantee that the slip was even see through.

She stepped out from behind the curtain with a scowl on her face. By now, she was wishing she would have just strangled the kind woman and gotten it over with. Her nails bit into her palms as she clenched her fists.

"Oh, wonderful. You're ready." Beatrice beamed. She clapped her hands in happiness and approached Kurin. The blonde woman walked to the door, opening it to reveal three more large men. They were all new to Kurin. It was like she'd never see someone twice. Without a word, they also approached Kurin. Giant hands clamped around both her arms and her heart leapt into her throat. Another pair of hands grabbed her head from behind and tilted it to the side. Kurin could do nothing to fight against them, but she wished she had at least tried.

Beatrice produced a syringe from her largest pocket and gently pressed the plunger. Clear liquid spat from the tip of the needle, and Kurin knew she wasn't going to like whatever they were putting into her. She tried struggling, tried screaming, tried biting. Nothing worked.

Beatrice was close enough now, and she plunged the syringe into Kurin's exposed neck. White hot pain exploded through her veins, fogging her vision.

Definitely should have strangled her.


	6. Bright Lights and Fireworks

Kurin's memory had started to slip. She vaguely remembered stumbling through the halls with strong hands trying to steady her. The walls were a drab sort of creme color. Or were they grey? She could remember someone talking, but it filtered through her hazy state as deep, rough mumbling. She couldn't make out the words or intent behind the speech. She remembered being hoisted onto some sort of platform, and here she was, staring into blinding lights.

Her vision started to clear, and her swaying decreased. She was able to remember a sharp pain in her neck before she became dazed and confused. Whatever they had shot into her hadn't intended to keep her a stupid, stumbling mess for long. Even as her head started to clear, she was aware of the other effects the drug was taking on her dainty body.

Her muscles were almost completely relaxed, and moving seemed to be the hardest thing she'd ever done. Just stumbling to catch herself as she started to fall winded her. This chemical was only meant to make her immobile. Incapable of running or escaping. It essentially gave her the balance and coordination of a three year old, and like a three year old, Kurin wanted to stomp her foot and pout at the unfairness of it all.

Only moments after she assessed her mental situation did she become of her physical one. The platform that she had originally thought she was placed on was actually a massive stage. It was set outside, almost resembling a loading bay. She could see the line of tree, just of in the distance behind the blinding lights. The wind picked up and ruffle her dress, carrying it high up her thighs. She tried to hold it down, but her movements were sluggish and sloppy, like trying to wade through quicksand.

A whimper to her left drew her gaze, and she realized she was not the only girl on stage. Women of all ages were lined up, row after row, on stage. Their movements were just as slow. Just as sloppy. Their faces showed just as much fear, hatred, longing. Longing to be home in beds, or with their family, or out with friends. Safe.

The girls seemed to be arranged by age. The closest girl to her, who Kurin assumed the whimper came from, was maybe about six. Luckily, her clothing was a lot more modest than what Kurin was sporting. Still, Kurins throat tightened and a knot formed in her chest.

_A child. A young girl. What could they possibly do with a young girl?_

To the child's left was another young girl. She was maybe eleven. The age seemed to move up in small, varying increments from there. By the time Kurin's eyes found her age range, she was already being pulled along and placed with the others. Her age, eighteen, placed her right smack dab in the center of the stage. All the brightest, blinding lights seemed to focus directly on her, and she winced. Insta-headache, anyone?

All was quiet. That is, until a soft clicking reached her ears. And then more, and more, and more until it was a roar that was deafening and eerily beautiful at the same time. Shivers of excitement and horror rocked up her spine, causing to shudder. Horror, because she was vaguely familiar with those sounds. They were akin to the ones she'd heard the night before, in the alley. They were the ones that replayed, over and over again in her dreams like a damaged record player. She realized that she could see the barest hints of silhouettes behind the searing lights. They were huge. All of them. And they all seemed to be in movement. Her eyes couldn't track one silhouette for more than a few seconds before it was dwarfed by another, and another one after that.

Whatever was going on, it was causing a scene. The big, burly men on either side of the stage brandished weapons of all sizes. Most, surprisingly, were unfamiliar to Kurin. They were strange, alien almost. They were slightly too large for human hands. Slightly too heavy, as they caused the arms of the men to shake with the effort of supporting their weight.

After a few moments, the restless audience began to calm. A man to the right of the stage jogged up, holding a mic. Or rather, what appeared to be a mic. When he spoke, his voice was not what was amplified. Instead, it was replaced by clicks and growls. The audience went silent. Kurin, for the life of her, couldn't hear or figure out what he was saying. She stayed right where she was, sandwiched between two teenage girls, and watched as he gestured to the youngest girl. He would point at the small child, address the crowd, and write a few notes. After a minute or two, he pulled her forward and presented her to the crowd as a separate being.

Massive, silhouetted arms shot up all around the crowd. The clicks, the growls, the alien language itself bounced off the walls and echoed. The speaker got excited, pointed happily to a raised arm in the audience and ushered the terrified girl off stage.

First one down.

The next one went quicker. And the next one, even faster than that. As the countdown progressed, the crowd grew restless again. The young woman directly before Kurin, a short little brunette thing, was next. The man stepped up to her, gave her a reassuring pat on the shoulder and proceeded to auction her off. The poor thing, despite being drugged, could not stop shaking. Her eyes darted back and forth, never stopping or focusing on one thing for long. She jumped when anyone even so much as leaned in her direction.

Kurin wanted to console her. To tell her everything was going to be okay. But she couldn't, and wouldn't lie to her. Everything was most definitely not going to be okay. This entire situation was as far from okay as Kurin had ever been.

Sure enough, the girl sold only moments after her personal auction started. A small glimmer of hope for the frightened girl sparked at the last minute. Kurin watched as the men came to drag her away. Her shoulders stopped shaking. She squared them, and she set her jaw in a stubborn manner. It was the look of a survivor, and Kurin had hope for this one.

Without realizing it, Kurin had lost herself in her own thoughts. The man finally stepped up to her, and when he placed his hand on her shoulder, her stomach turned into a ball of ice shards. She felt as if she might be sick, or cry, or collapse, or implode at any second. Her heart sped up, hammering a veracious tattoo behind her ribs. She was sure anyone watching could see it. She was suddenly acutely aware of what everyone else was seeing. All these sickos saw a young, teenage girl in nothing but a silk slip and undies. They saw the large breasts, the small waist, and the elegant hips. They saw the long, bright red hair that tickled creamy thighs, and the frightened, lively green eyes.

They saw the perfect little toy, to be sold at auction.

Before any words were spoken, arms shot up in the crowd. Kurin's icy stomach dropped into her toes and she held her breath.

Multiple things happened in that moment. The building, directly across from where the stage was stationed, exploded with such a violent, rocking force that everyone on stage collapsed. Debris flew everywhere, peppering the women with glass and metal fragments, and skewering others. Two of the audience members, using the distraction, climbed on stage with hurried, sure movements. The things, whatever they were, grabbed the women nearest them and ran. Soon after, others got the same idea. While everyone was busy screaming, crying, writhing in pain, women were snatched up and carried away. Kurin was trapped beneath the girl who, only moments ago, had been standing to the left of her.

She was heavy, but not in the overweight sense. In the sense that her entire body had gone limp, and was now resting entirely on Kurin's small frame. Kurin's ears started to ring, an after effect of the explosion possibly. She struggled under the girl as hard as she could with her noncooperative muscles, trying as hard as she could to remove her. Just when it was getting hard for Kurin to breath, the weight was lifted. Gone, like it was never even there.

She rolled over onto her back, preparing to try and stand when she realized a huge, hulking shadow had been cast over her. Looking up, she realized this must have been one of the audience members, because he was huge. Seven entire feet of muscle and bone and deadly grace. Dark green, spotted skin stretched over every bulging muscle. Every washboard ab. He had broad shoulders, far larger than the spanse of a regular door frame. Huge chest, slender hips, insanely muscled legs. The thing that caught Kurin's attention most was not, in fact, it's face. Although a metal, red eyed mask was indeed strange and slightly terrifying, what caught her attention most were it's hands. The huge, clawed, savage looking fingers held a deadly, mesmerizing kind of beauty. The beastly part of him was glorious. Glorious and terrifying and utterly beautiful.

She sat gawking, horrified and mesmerized for countless seconds before the huge beast bent down to retrieve her shell shocked form from the ground. She wondered absently if she should be afraid of this man.

It was a man, wasn't it? Because it was most definitely Male.

She knew that sooner or later, after the shock wore off, she would be in hysterics, clutching Jayson to her chest like she always seemed to do.

_Jayson…_

Kurin suddenly started to thrash in the huge males grasp. The drug prevented her from causing any real harm or trouble, since she seemed to just flop around awkwardly, but it didn't muffle her screams.

"Jayson! Jayson, where are you?!" She beat her hands as hard as she could against his chest, demanding she be let down.

A dark, condescending sound escaped from her captor. It was a sound like that of dark laughter. Rich and mysterious and frightening.

He was _laughing_ at her! After a moment, she started laughing too. She laughed, because this morning, she had a normal life. This morning, she had a brother, and a house, and a job. Now, she was the victim of a kidnapping, of human trafficking and of another possible kidnapping. How in the world does someone get dealt this kind of hand? What cosmic events have to line up that cause one persons life to flip completely upside down, around, and sideways in a matter of a few hours?...

The male looked at his human captive with worried eyes. He was familiar enough with human psychology to recognize signs of trauma and stress. Her hysterical laughter, accompanied by the occasional tear, had him a little freaked out. However, mainly he was pissed. Pissed, because he finally got his hands on a woman who looked to him like a worthy _lou-dte kale_, and she seemed to be slowly going insane. Pissed, because he hadn't had the chance to kill every last, filthy, human male who had laid hands on her.

He wound through the holding complex where the women were held, headed for the back doors. It was the opposite direction of his ship, and where he actually wanted to be in general, but behind these buildings was the holding cell for his little _yeyinde's_ kin. The boy was a _pyode amedha_ like his sister. All soft flesh, dull nails, creamy skin and flat teeth. Vulnerable and weak in every sense of the word. But he was attractive for a_ pyode amedha_. It was his innocent, childlike vulnerability that made him desirable. It made the huge male want to keep him. Raise him like a Yautja. The fight was definitely there, in his soul. It just needed to be harnessed.

The young child was also important to the Yautja's female. She had protected him from everything. Comforted him when she herself needed the comfort. Screamed his name and fought her captors when they were separated. The bond between the two was nearly palpable, and he couldn't bare to break it. It was something that was nearly unheard of for his species. Siblings hardly ever grew up together. They were raised by their Mothers, taught at a young age to survive, and released when the time came. Bonds were never formed, therefore, never broken. But the Yautja had studied the humans, as a precautionary measure when it came time to own one. The mental damage the loss of a sibling or family member could inflict on these weak beings was immense, and painful.

When they finally reached the back door, and it was bashed down with one, powerful kick, Kurin stopped her laughter. She was suddenly aware of her surroundings. They had gone through a building, something she wasn't aware of during her mental breakdown. They were outside now, behind said buildings, facing was looked like rows of cages. Her eyes scanned the cages curiously.

_Is he planning on putting me in one?_

Her eyes landed on the cage furthest to the left and a pitiful, hope filled wail escaped her throat. Jayson was hunkered down in the corner of his steel prison, wailing to himself. All his fear and anger and loneliness was poured into the heartbreaking sounds.

The large man took only a few large steps before he was in front of the cage. Jayson heard the approach and looked up just in time to see a man, probably the largest he had ever seen, carrying his sister in his arms.

"Kurin!" he screamed. His face was wet with fresh tears, and a left eye was black and bruised. It had started to swell and his eye was nearly swollen shut. A disgusted sound left Kurin when she spotted the mark, and she squirmed to be let free. The Yautja's grip tightened on her as he reached forward and shredded the lock on the cage. Jayson busted through as soon as it was open and tried to launch himself into Kurin's arms. If it hadn't been for the clawed hand catching the back of Jayson's shirt, he would have crashed to the ground. The Yautja pulled him up, effortlessly, and placed him on his back. Jayson's arms struggled to encircle the Yautja's neck, and instead settled for grasping the straps of his chestpiece. Jayson settled in like it was the most natural thing in the world, and the Yautja wondered if both_ pyode amedha_ had trouble understanding fear. Right now, they should be afraid of him. Cowering in a corner, or trying to run away.

Sure, the female was still struggling, but exhaustion was obviously clouding her mind and the drugs administered to her helped her along to unconsciousness. She went limp and lifeless in minutes, breathing soft and evenly in his arms. The young boy, however, was as aware as he was. His heartbeat was quick, his eyes alert, his head always on a swivel. This one, he knew, would make a great hunter.

He would make a great human turned Yautja.

_**pyode amedha- Soft meat (human)**_

_**lou-dte kale- Child maker (female)**_

_**yeyinde- Brave One**_

_**Thank you for reading! Please leave a review. I made this chapter longer, I hope you enjoyed it.**_


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